


Take My Breath Away

by rhymeswithcabbage



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Civil War who? idk her, Falling In Love, Fluff, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Insecure Tony, IronWinter - Freeform, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious, Pining, Supportive Avengers, Team as Family, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, noob science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithcabbage/pseuds/rhymeswithcabbage
Summary: Tony Stark didn't ask for this. He didn't ask for his heart to skip a beat, for his cheeks to go hot, for shivers to run down his spine, for his palms to get sweaty, for his breath to get punched out of his chest, for his knees to go weak and for his brain to go completely blank. But every time he looks at Bucky, it's inevitable. He's a mess. Out of control. A frozen, babbling lunatic.-----Alternatively,5 times Tony Stark tried to ask Bucky Barnes out on a date and one time he succeeded. Sort of.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks so much for stopping by!
> 
> This fic is fluff with some very mild angst because I tried to make people tell Tony everything I want him to hear. He deserves all the love!
> 
> Happy reading! I'll see you at the end notes!

Tony barely notices the screwdriver falling from his fingers and hitting the floor with a soft 'clink'. He's been staring through the hologram in front of him for the last ten minutes. At least.

Bucky Barnes is sprawled out on his back on the ratty old sofa in the corner of his workshop. Through the pale blue lines of Clint's new EMP arrow, Tony's eyes linger over the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his metal arm lying over his stomach while his right arm is tossed up over his head on the armrest. His face is turned to one side, facing Tony, and Tony leans around the holoscreen to take in the details. From a few feet away, he can make out the small wrinkle between Bucky's brows, the crooked slope of his nose. His mouth is slightly open, and his hair is everywhere, flowy locks fanning out like black water, one silky strand resting on his temple, running across his cheek and over his mouth to tickle his chin. Every puff of his breath makes it float, feathery soft, and fall, and float, and fall again, and-

And Tony just can't look away.

Really, he can't be blamed. It's three in the morning by his estimate. He's been down here for twelve hours. _Twelve hours._

Okay, so that's technically much less time than he usually spends down here before blacking out or zombie walking to the common floor in search of coffee, but in his defence, he'd been dragged upstairs that evening and wrapped in a blanket and threatened to shut his eyes on pain of being forced to watch the Star Wars prequels (which probably counted as torture, really, weren't there rules against doing this to a man in his own home?) and escaping a metal arm is hard, okay? JARVIS had been on Bucky's side too, the traitor. So he'd slept, resentfully. 

And he isn't hungry, he ate a sandwich in the last few hours (because he's a responsible independent adult, not because Bucky brought one down and turned the sad eyes on Tony when he ignored him, _pfft_ , who said that). He even drank water. He's finished this week's designs for SI and sent them on to Pepper, he's been tinkering with the Avengers' gear and talking at DUM-E while nodding along to his favourite tunes, and then he'd talked at Bucky for a while when he came down, and now he's just, well, stopped. 

Distantly, he realizes the music's stopped too. JARVIS must've turned it off when Bucky fell asleep. How has he been so out of it that he didn't realize? He's still got energy to spare (it's because he's awesome and a genius, it has nothing to do with the sandwich, or the water, shut up JARVIS). There must be something wrong.

Okay, so it's probably not food or the water. JARVIS says those things are good for you. They're supposed to help you work _more_ , not _less_. Not _not at all_. Maybe JARVIS is... wrong? Nah, that's not possible, it must be because he hasn't slept in ages. Twelve whole hours! His head does feel a little woozy, his face feels warmer than usual, his heart's beating a little faster than normal, but JARVIS is silent so it's probably nothing serious, and there's chills running down his spine and his breath is catching a bit and oh, he might actually be coming down with something, oh gosh, maybe it _is_ something serious-

Bucky's hair drifts up again as he exhales and as it floats back down, a couple strands fall on Bucky's nose, which scrunches up. He let's out what Tony might call a sneeze, if it didn't sound like a noise a tiny kitten might make.

(Tony might make a noise too. A little one. Completely involuntary. JARVIS, delete that.)

Barely realizing what he's doing, he walks over to the couch, wiping his hands on the sides of his ratty jeans. Bucky lets out a small sigh, a slight frown on his face, and that damn strand of hair flutters and sways and Tony can't help it, he can feel it coming and he's powerless to stop it. His grease-stained fingers reach out and smooth the hair back over Bucky's forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

Bucky makes a noise in his throat. Tony freezes. 

Bucky's jaw tenses and he shifts a little on the sofa. Tony steels himself and prepares to back off, and then realizes he's _kneeling_ on the ground, oh Thor, how did he even get here, and he's bent over Bucky's face and his HAND is on Bucky's EAR and how did this happen, abort, abort, _abort_.

Tony's still trying to unfreeze and move and take his hand off of Bucky's fucking ear oh my god what is it doing there, when Bucky's eyelids flutter open. "Oh, hey Tony," he says, his voice deep and scratchy and just the slightest bit slurred from sleep. Tony freezes all over again as sleepy grey eyes blink up at him. He tries not to spontaneously combust as Bucky licks his lips and speaks again. "Wassuup. Are-are you-"

"We should go out," Tony says. And then proceeds to wish he _could_ spontaneously combust because what is this, what is happening how did this happen, how did he end up here, he needs to get out of here now, JARVIS, _do something_ -

"Mmm, five more minutes," Bucky mumbles, eyes falling shut again, and Tony's still panicking and paralyzed and doesn't register the metal arm reaching out and grabbing him around the waist, until he's hauled up on top of an, _ooh_ , muscular chest. 

_Oof_. He meant _oof_. Because that chest is um. Hard. Yes. _Oof_. Get with the program, brain.

Bucky nuzzles his nose into Tony's hair and his breathing goes soft and even again. Tony just lies there, wide eyed, face smooshed into an unfairly firm pectoral, legs tangled with Bucky's. The tips of his socked feet press into Bucky's calves and the man grunts, and suddenly their legs are tangled and there's a hand, a flesh hand, curling around his shoulders, dragging him up until he feels a nose press into his hair.

Tony tries to process what just happened. He has so many questions. Why has he stopped working, why is he lying on top of Bucky's torso with a metal arm holding him hostage for the second time today, why is JARVIS so quiet, maybe he needs to update his scanners, he's obviously not picking up on Tony's scrambled pulse and stilted breathing, and his temperature feels even higher than before, which is worrisome. It's a lucky thing Bucky can't get sick. Lucky Bucky. Ha.

Bucky's breath tickles the back of his neck and he forgets what he was thinking about.

Tony is- He's - oh, he's _tired_ , that's what he is. JARVIS says it's _normal_ to be tired. Tony doesn't get tired because he's _Tony_ but maybe he can suffer through a taste of normality, just this once. He's tired and warm and he can deal with JARVIS' scanners and Steve's boots and Bucky Lucky tomorrow. Lucky Buck? Buck Luck.

Bucky's arm tightens around him as he mutters something unintelligible in his sleep. Tony squirms a little to get comfortable and closes his eyes. 

\-----

The thing is. The thing is, nothing.

No really. Nothing.

Tony had woken up from a (surprisingly dreamless, maybe there was something to this 'being tired' thing after all, Tony should try it more often) nap, and he'd frozen, the (still somewhat confusing) events of last night (this morning?) rushing back to him. Then he'd realized Bucky was still fast asleep. He'd carefully lifted himself off the (considerably larger) sleeping man, untangled their legs and extracted himself from his grip. Bucky had made a soft noise that might or might not have been of protest. Not wanting to wake the man up, Tony had grabbed the nearest soft thing, which was an Iron Man plush Steve had given him for Christmas, and thrown it at the man's chest. Bucky had wrapped his arms around it and, apparently accepting it as a substitute, had fallen asleep again.

Tony had torn his eyes away from his biceps and bolted calmly to the elevator. Two hours later, he's panic-watching The Lord of the Rings on the common floor to distract himself. Thor, Clint and Steve had invited themselves to the party some time ago. Steve's just coming back with their third bowl of popcorn when Bucky comes out of the elevator, dishelved and a little droopy. He looks up when Steve calls his name and smiles. His smile seems to grow wider when he sees Tony there too, but that's probably his imagination. 

And then Bucky comes over and squeezes himself next to Tony on the couch, and Tony's definitely not imagining the warmth of the body on his right. He tries not shiver. And really, who shivers when they're warm? JARVIS would've said something if he was actually sick, right?

Tony gives Bucky a quick smile and turns back to the movie. The couch is a tight fit for three superheroes on a normal day, but Bucky, Tony, Clint and Steve have all managed to fit somehow, Thor having claimed his favourite 'pillow of pulses' as his throne. Tony's sandwiched between Clint and Bucky, and his thigh pressed against Bucky's, and his shoulder brushing against Bucky's metal bicep (because he's average sized, okay, he'll admit it, surrounded by supersoldiers and their damn serum enhanced bodies, hmph) and Tony must be really invested in the fate of Middle Earth, because his heart is going haywire.

He's trying to calm himself down and focus on the movie when he feels hair tickling his neck and Bucky whispers, "Can you pass the popcorn, please?" and his breath is too close to his ear, his voice is still deep and scratchy and the slightest bit slurred. A shiver runs down Tony's back and he hastily reaches across Clint for the popcorn bowl in Steve's lap, to stop his hands from shaking. They sit with the bowl balanced on one of Tony's legs and one of Bucky's, Clint reaching over to grab a handful every now and then, and Bucky hasn't said anything at all, and it occurs to Tony that maybe. Maybe Bucky doesn't remember.

His relieved sigh earns him a confused look from Bucky and an annoyed "shhh" from Clint but he doesn't care. Now he can process things in peace. His hand brushes Bucky's as they both reach for popcorn and Tony grins at him before turning back to the movie.

...

Tony is squashed. Clint has dozed off, his head on Tony's shoulder and his blonde hair tickling his ear. Bucky's metal arm is thrown up on top of the sofa, behind Tony's shoulders.

And Tony is processing. It's a little harder when he's being suffocated like he is, but he manages. He's processing _hard_. Even if it's a bit hard to breathe.

It takes another bowl of popcorn, Sam and Natasha finding them and sitting on the floor to watch The Return of the King, and a metal arm brushing the back of his neck for Tony to realize that maybe the problem is that he doesn't want Bucky to forget. Maybe he wants Bucky to remember.

Well, shit.

...

Tony tries to keep his eyes on the TV screen as the credits roll. They're definitely nowhere near the lines of Bucky's shoulders and back as he pushes himself up off the couch and stretches. Tony resolutely ignores Natasha looking up at him, her gaze calculating.

"Hey Buckaroo," Tony says nonchalantly. Well, as nonchalant as he can be with Clint drooling on his shoulder. "You like karaoke, right?"

Bucky grins at him, carefree and happy, and Tony can't help grinning back like a loon. He remembers the days when those smiles were a hard won prize, nights when Bucky had told him he didn't know if he could smile anymore. But he can be openly, genuinely happy now, and the thought makes Tony's heart swell to uncomfortable sizes in his chest. Cut it out, heart, there's barely enough space in there for you already.

"I've always been more of a dancing guy, Tony, you know that," Bucky drawls, and winks, and dear Thor, why can't Tony get a grip on himself long enough to ask the man out on one date.

Oh, wait. He's already done that. And..."Is that a no?" Tony's still as nonchalant as ever. The tremble in his voice is barely audible. He's nailing this, really.

Bucky frowns. "I've never actually done karaoke, I think. Except there was that one mission where I-"

"Hey Buck!" Steve interjects, almost like he's trying to stop the next words from leaving Bucky's mouth. Tony can't blame him. Steve gets uneasy whenever Bucky brings up his past with Hydra, even if Bucky's made peace with it. Mostly. But Tony can't blame him at all for trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. Oh right, there's conversation happening. He tunes back into what Steve is saying.

"-that club you used to drag me to on weekends?"

"Uh, I can't say I remember which specific club-"

"With the drowned cat on the sign?"

"Oh," Bucky laughs and Tony tries not to melt. Bucky should laugh all the time. He catches Natasha's knowing gaze and hastily looks away. "That was our - okay, _my_ favourite place," He smirks as Steve glares at him. "Jesus, Steve, I took you out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now. Didn't I find you some nice little ladies in our day?"

And now he's memeing?! Ugh, Tony never stood a chance.

Steve is rolling his eyes, albeit fondly. "You know I hated those clubs, Buck. And all the dames ever wanted from us was a piece of you."

Bucky's smirk turns devilish. "Oh, so it had nothing to with the fact that it was called Wet-"

"ANYWAY," Steve interrupts him again, cheeks going pink, and Bucky smirks wider. Tony is decidedly _not_ swooning. He's also decidedly _not_ aware of Natasha's twinkling gaze still fixed on him (anti-multitasking for the win!) "I found another sign the other day," Steve is saying, "And it had that same wonky writing and that same cartoony drowned animal on it, and we just HAVE to go!"

Clint jerks awake and looks around blearily. "Whoozzere? Wa?" Everyone ignores him. Tony flicks his ear and he glares, dropping his head back on Tony's shoulder with a grunt. Tony sighs. The things he puts up with, in his own home.

Thor seems excited about Steve's proposal. "Drenched Midgardian creatures are sure promises of exciting times! We shall all go and make merry!" Bucky shrugs, Sam nods, Clint makes an unintelligible noise, and Natasha shoots out a calm "Sure". Steve lights up like a puppy.

Tony blinks. Was his first - okay, second, if you count incoherent ramblings, but who does that anyway? Tony did, apparently. Moving on - was his attempt at asking Bucky on a date really just _hijacked_? By _Captain America_ , no less? He narrows his eyes at the blonde, who stares back at him, as if waiting. The stare slowly morphs from expectant to confused. Tony huffs and looks away, grunting his assent when Bucky taps his head. Apparently they're going somewhere because Steve saw a soaked animal on a sign. As a team. To whatever place Steve thinks is fun. And Bucky thinks it's fun too, apparently. Or maybe Bucky doesn't know what it is. Steve didn't specify, did he? Maybe he'd missed that part of the conversation. Eh, it was probably nothing exciting. Maybe something like Bingo with little old ladies with Troll blotters. Or art classes. Or an opera. Or tap dancing lessons. It definitely wouldn't be as fun as a karaoke bar, right? 

Right?

Tony frowns. At least he's good at tap dancing.

\-----

This was a bad idea.

His arms are spread out wide and his legs are at a precise 63 degree angle. He's sure he won't fall in this position. Positive. About 87% sure. It's physics, he reminds himself, as he slides precariously along the deceptively stable-looking ice. He's just gaining some semblance of balance when Bucky's laugh rings out across the cold and makes him stumble again. "Don't think so hard, Tony!" He winks and Tony wills his knees not to go weak because now is not the time. Bucky, the absolute maniac, twirls in place and spreads his arms out. He comes to a standstill as Tony glares at him and grins cheekily. "It's easier than flying your suit, doll! Just balance!"

Hmph. Easy for the supersoldier with a bionic arm to say. Wait, wouldn't the arm actually make it harder to stay balanced? He'd have to compensate for the weight on the other side, wouldn't he? Tony stares at Bucky gliding smoothly toward him. How is he doing that?!

"Eyes up here, Tin Man," Bucky's smirk is back in full force and Tony drags his eyes up from the silver of his arm to the silver of his eyes, and oh, those eyes are _close_. He backs up instinctively, only for two hands to come up and grip his upper arms tight, one warm and one cold. He can feel them through his sweater. He tries to focus on Bucky's voice instead. "Careful, Tony, don't fall." His flesh hand moves from Tony's arm to his back. Tony's brain screeches to an abrupt halt before whirring into overdrive.

Steve's brilliant idea for team bonding was not, surprisingly, Bingo, or art classes, or tap dancing lessons. Which was a shame, because Tony's tap dancing skills were of no use to him now. It was a beautiful evening, and the Avengers were spending it an ice-skating rink. Named, somewhat questionably, the Drowned Rat. Tony thinks the name would better suit a swimming pool, but it was still a better name than The Club That Shalt Not Be Named. Anyway, ice skating. Which Tony has never ever even considered doing, because why would he want to glide on ice when he could just put on his suit and glide through the air and over water and into the clouds.

But this is _fun_ , supposedly. Tony's not seeing the entertainment in all this stumbling and steadying, if he's being honest. He doesn't like this, feeling off-balance, out of control, without JARVIS in his ear or his suit to help him out. Maybe he's not trying hard enough. Or maybe he's trying _too_ hard. Maybe he should just stop trying because honestly, who cares about ice skating anyway, so many people get hurt when ice skating, he's pretty sure people have probably _died_ ice skating because this ice is _hard_ , he would know, it's become well-acquainted with his butt in the past half hour. And how could anyone love something that was so wound up with death? How could it be considered nice, or fun, or, or lovable, when it was obviously so dangerous? 

What was he thinking about again?

As if sensing his anxiety, Bucky's eyes widen and he backs up. His metal arm is still holding on to Tony's, which is a blessing because Tony sways slightly towards the man as he retreats, before catching himself, and miraculously doesn't fall. Bucky clears his throat and says, somewhat scratchily, "Don't look down."

Of course, Tony proceeds to do exactly that. 

Buckys rolls his eyes, and metal fingers grab Tony's chin, brushing aginst his goatee, pulling his head back up, and Tony is frozen, trapped in Bucky's gaze. Bucky's mouth is pulled into an exaggerated frown, but his gray eyes are dancing. "What did I just say?"

Tony can't talk. Tony can't move. Tony can't _breathe_. Dear lord, what is this. Is this what this is supposed to feel like? Do they have refunds on this kind of thing? He honestly doesn't even remember when he got - whatever this is. Whatever is making his head fuzzy and his palms sweaty and his heart beat like crazy. He doesn't know if he even wants it. Why does he have something he doesn't want? What is this?

Bucky has let go of his chin and is holding his shoulders while saying something. "-so it's important not to lean back." Bucky's hand is suddenly pushing on his back. "Try keeping your weight forward, and bend your knees a li-"

Tony panics and blurts out, "We should get dinner."

Bucky stills as his other hand approaches Tony's knee. Tony manages to bury his sigh of relief deep inside him. His eyes are still a little wild as Bucky says, somewhat dejectedly, "Oh. Are you tired?"

Tony clears his throat. "I- yeah. Yeah, I'm tired."

"Oh, okay then." Bucky almost looks disappointed as he abruptly withdraws and straightens up.

And proceeds to let go of Tony.

Tony's powerless to stop it. His eyes go wide and he sees Bucky realize what's happening and swoop forward, but it's too late. His centre of gravity swoops and he falls flat on his bum on the ice.

Bucky is staring at him wide eyed, reaching for him, and Natasha is smirking at him from where she's been flawlessly figure skating for the past hour (damn you, Natasha) and Clint and Sam are tripping over each other laughing and Thor is too busy sliding around the rink on Mjölnir and laughing maniacally to care, and Steve is staring over at them, his expression calculating, and Tony. Tony is just done.

Bucky's expression is dripping remorse. Normally, Tony would find it funny, but right now it's just annoying."Tony, I'm so-"

"Forget it."

"Really I'm-"

"Just go, Bucky."

His face falls, and then goes carefully blank as he backs away. "I- I'll just go tell Steve we're ready to leave for dinner then." Bucky shoots off at top speed to where Steve is smirking smugly, with the air of one who's unlocked the secrets of the universe.

And he didn't even offer Tony a helping hand. _Rude_. He frowns at Bucky, skating away from him, but can't help admiring the view. He sighs and shivers. His _own_ butt is slowly turning to ice. He's trying to calculate the best angle to push himself off the floor with minimum effort when a dainty hand with icy blue fingernails appears in his line of sight.

He narrows his eyes at Natasha, who's smirking down at him. He raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to pull me up or make me fall on my ass again?"

A flash of hurt passes through her features before they're perfectly rearranged into an eyeroll. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he'd have missed it. "I guess you'll just have to find out," she says coolly. He scoffs at her and grabs her hand.

She pulls him up and helps him balance, and he swears her eyes soften a bit when he grins at her. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back. She helps him to the edge of the rink, laughing at his stuttering glide while he mock-glares at her. 

Both of them miss the gray eyes glaring daggers at them. 

Steve doesn't.

\-----

  
Tony doesn't know when these Nat-nights started. And they only called them that because Nat had vetoed "Tony-Tasha-Time". There was no accounting for taste, there. But they were friends now, somehow. He thinks it began when he broke up with Pepper.

He was much less hurt than he thought he would be. He loved her, loves her still, but he never did feel like he was enough for her. He could never find the time to dote on her, to worship her, never could put her above everything else in his life, especially Iron Man. He could never be what she needed, what she deserved. She deserved to be prioritized, to be cherished. She needed more than a man who owed more to the world than he did to her.

But the thought of her leaving him nearly paralyzed him with fear. The idea of losing her like he'd lost so many people, of her never being a part of his life anymore, was more than he could bear. Still, he overcame it, and did what was best for them. Their relationship, though short lived, had been real, and had changed them for the better. And Pepper made it clear to him then, and every day since, that they were in it together for the long run, whether as friends or as something more. 

Despite the reasons and the simplicity of it, the breakup did sting. Felt too much like rejection for the logical part of his brain to convince him that it was a step towards the better.

No one noticed the little changes. Tony barely noticed them himself. The team brushed off his sharper quips with eyerolls and banter as they always did. Steve glared at him a bit harder when he made a more reckless play than usual in battle, but ultimately let it slide. His used coffee mugs cluttering up the kitchen counter went ignored, probably since most of them only appeared after 2AM. Or maybe Steve just forgot to bring it up. 

Tony wasn't too upset with the lack of attention - he was glad not to be forced into an intervention or a "heart-to-heart", supposedly for his own well-being, when everyone knew his heart was too weak to handle anything more emotional than the salt and pepper shakers being separated from each other and exiled to opposite sides of the table. He didn't cry over it Rhodey, shut up, he was 17 and _drunk_ , okay, and anyway, you cried too.

So Tony hurt, and healed, and life went on. He let go of the insecurities, the frustration of being alone again, the feeling of not being good enough, of never being able to try hard enough, he let go of it bit by bit, through beating up metal in his workshop, blasting music at deafening volumes until JARVIS turned it off 'as a safety measure', and petty little things that went ignored. And he was glad. He was getting better. Sort of.

But Natasha noticed.

Now, things would've been much easier if he'd _known_ that Natasha had noticed. As it was, he became aware of this fact when she plummeted from his ceiling at 4 in the morning and landed perfectly on his bed, not a hair out of place.

Once he'd stopped screaming, she said "You look like you need this," and proceeded to pull a bottle of vodka out of nowhere.

Still in a state of shock, he'd found himself blabbing, unconsciously, about his decision to go sober, so at least one thing in the world had no control over him anymore, and while he'd been cursing himself internally and wondering why he'd told her any of that, Natasha had nodded thoughtfully and disappeared. Tony had blinked and tried to calm his heart down before it exploded. 

"JARVIS, what just happened?"

"I believe, sir, that Ms. Romanov took liberties with the all-access pass you granted to all Avengers in case of crisis." 

"There's a crisis?! Where, J, should I-"

"You have not been sleeping, sir."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, but JARVIS volunteered no more information.

"We've talked about giving away delicate information unasked, JARVIS."

"Ms. Romanov asked after you, sir. And I informed her that you were 'fine', as per your general instructions. I just gave her a rather more... _extended_ answer than usual."

Tony ran a hand over his face. "What did you tell her, J?"

"Quote: _'Sir is completely fine and not at all lonely or in need of a friend.'_ End quote."

"I _am_ fine, J," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't need you to fix me."

"I live to serve, sir," Tony rolled his eyes at the dry voice and smashed his face into his pillow. He was _fine_ , goddamnit. He didn't need an AI and an assassin to babysit him. She was gone now, anyway. They always left, eventually. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to go back to sleep. 

He managed not to scream when she leaped out of the vent again ten minutes later, but it was a close thing. 

"JARVIS, _what_?!"

"I apologize, sir, but since you did not explicitly object when Ms. Romanov entered your quarters earlier, I assumed I was permitted to allow re-entry." She flashed a quick salute to one of the cameras and turned to Tony, who was glaring at her. She gave him an unimpressed stare. Her hands clutched two bottles of ice blue Gatorade. She raised an eyebrow.

Tony's glare turned confused. "Why?" he asked when he found his voice again.

"You seemed lonely."

He glared at her harder. "No, I'm not, don't listen to JARVIS, he's a traitor and a liar and, and that's not what I meant, I meant, why _Gatorade_?"

She shrugged. "It looked cool."

They stayed up all night downing Gatorade shots from the bottlecaps. The silence slowly shifted from awkward to comfortable, and Tony found himself bewildered but thankful for the company. He _was_ lonely, and he found that he didn't mind too much that she knew, because she seemed a little lonely too. And he wasn't losing sleep, since he'd technically had none, but she didn't need to know _that_. 

He had a feeling she did, anyway.

Three days later, she was back. They drank Kool Aid and traded gossip till dawn. She painted his nails hot rod red and he wore gloves in his workshop for the first time in fifteen years so he could keep his hands pretty. The colour stayed bright, bold and unchipped for a whole week.

The next week, as they sat cross legged on his bed and she cleaned his nails with a cotton swab, he asked if he could paint _her_ nails. "Is this a gender thing?" She asked, one perfect eyebrow raised. 

He shrugged. "It'd look cool."

She looked through his nail polish collection and picked out an icy blue. It didn't seem like her usual style. Did she just like the colour or was it symbolic? She saw his questioning look and shrugged.

Her nails turned out prettier than his. Of _course_ they did.

\---

That had been two months ago. Today, they're wearing warm socks and sitting on Tony's bed, back to back, Natasha playing with a knife while Tony moans about how cold his butt is.

"Oh, suck it up, _Antoshka_ ," he can't see, but he knows she's rolling her eyes at him. He sticks his tongue out at her and knows she can tell. She knocks her head against his lightly. "Besides, I'd have thought you'd feel heated up, what with all that sexual tension between you and Barnes." He can hear the smirk in her voice.

By some miracle, Tony manages not to choke on his own spit. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says primly. She pokes him in the side with her elbow and he squirms. "Ow! Uncalled for!"

"Lying to me, Stark? I'm so hurt."

He rolls his eyes at her fake-hurt tone. "I swear, there's nothing going on." He leans to the side and tilts his head back to rest on her shoulder. He's so busy staring at the ceiling and trying to keep his heart from beating too fast that he startles when he feels fingers in his hair.

"But do you want there to be?" The question is soft, not judging, just curious. He closes his eyes, hoping his silence is enough of an answer. She sighs and her fingers still. Then she's shifting and he startles, preparing to move away, but her hand holds his head up as she turns to face him and crosses her legs. She lays his head down in her lap. He sighs and grumbles a bit about her manhandling, then stares at the ceiling to avoid her pitying gaze. 

"You need to talk to him, Tony." 

"What good would that do?" He tries to sound unaffected but it comes out a bit hoarse, and he knows she's noticed. She doesn't bring it up.

It's quiet again as her hands move from his hair to his forehead, drawing patterns on his temples, tracing his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes again. The backs of his eyelids burn.

"I don't know if I can do this, Nat."

"If you do nothing, it's only going to get harder."

"I _know_ that."

"Okay."

Silence.

"Maybe if I ask him, and he rejects me, this will all go away? This babbling and freezing up. This _feeling_."

"I don't know if it works that way, Tony."

"Or, on the off chance that he says yes, it would fade away. With time. Right?"

"Tony, there's more than an off chance-"

"But I can't even ask him on one date. I've tried. _Twice_. It's like the universe is conspiring against me. Maybe it's a sign." His voice is soft, resigned.

Her fingers still again. "Tony, no."

He knows she means well, he knows she cares. He shuts his eyes but he can't stop the tear from escaping. "Maybe I should just give up."

She makes a small sound. Her hand smooths the wetness off his cheek and her fingers trail down to his chin, brushing over his goatee. Bucky had done something similar, hadn't he? The thought makes him close his eyes tighter.

"No. You don't give up, Antoshka. Don't you give up on what you want."

Tony feels like he can't breathe. "I didn't ask for this, Nat," he chokes out.

"But you have it. You deserve to have it." Does he? Her voice brooks no argument, and he can't help but listen, even if he doesn't believe it. "Not everyone is lucky enough to feel what you feel. And you feel it so much deeper than most of us. You feel, you love, the same way you do everything else you do, with your whole heart and mind and soul. And you should go after what you want." 

"It's just so hard." He hates feeling weak, he hates feeling so helpless, he hates that he can't _breathe._

"What matters is if it's worth it. Is he worth it?"

Tony thinks of Bucky's smile, his metal arm and piercing gaze and ridiculous gorgeous hair. He thinks of late nights in the lab working on Bucky's arm, talking about nothing and everything. He thinks of hot cocoa with marshmallows at midnight when neither of them can sleep, staring at the stars and feeling a little less alone. He thinks of the first time he saw Bucky laugh at one of his lame jokes, the way his face had lit up like the sunrise. He thinks of Bucky, with his hair in a messy bun, playing fetch with DUM-E and tripping over U and holding onto Butterfingers' claw as he laughed so hard he cried. He thinks of Bucky's eyes, lost and empty as he'd cried and cried and cried and Tony had held him through it, through the hopelessness, through the fear, through tears of his own. He thinks of Bucky talking him calmly down from an anxiety attack, making him sleep and drink water and eat 'real' food. He thinks of the first time he'd put on the suit and taken Bucky flying, high above New York, and he thinks of the look on Bucky's face, awestruck and alive. He thinks of sharing popcorn at movie nights, of sending reassuring smiles across crowded rooms whenever one of them looked anxious, of poking fun at Steve together, of falling asleep on each other in the 'shop, of fighting for the last mug of coffee, of laughing at each others' cooking, of bickering over just about anything, and knowing, without question, that they're there for each other. 

"He's worth it."

Natasha taps his nose and he opens his eyes just to glare at her. She doesn't look surprised at his answer, just smiles down at him. "So go get him."

He peers at her. "You really think something will come out of it?"

She shrugs. 

He's quiet for a minute, and her fingers trace his goatee. Then, "Do you really think I can do it? Tell him how I feel?"

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to." She tweaks his ear just to see him scowl. "And you deserve to be happy, Tony. Because you have the biggest heart of any of us."

He stares at her skeptically, and she winks at him. She rests her hand on his chest, taps one ice blue fingernail against his ARC reactor.

"It's what makes you so cool, after all."

...

Today. Today's the day. Tony's going to do it.

"JARVIS, where is he?"

Today's the day, Tony's decided. Today's the day Tony asks him. He's finally going to ask him! He's almost vibrating with nerves as he rushes downstairs, through the hall, around the corner, and, there! He pushes open the door to find-

There's a moment when Tony's sure his heart's stopped beating. He feels like the wind's been knocked out of him, and it's not just from the run. He can't look away. "Holy shit, J, I can't do this."

The gym is filled with soft, warm light, mimicking the evening sunlight outside. Bucky is doing pushups, and Tony has a view of his profile. A _great_ view. Bucky's in shorts and a tank top that's almost a second skin. Tony takes in the glint of his metal arm, broad shoulders going up and down and up and down, again and again, and that beautiful hair tied up in a messy bun, strands escaping and falling around his face, tickling a strong jawline that Tony wants to trace, with his fingers first and later maybe even with his-

His train of thought screeches to a halt when his gaze meets twinkling blue eyes. Steve is smirking at him, but tilts his head to one side and back, as if to say 'come on in'. Tony gulps, then decides to just go for it before he chickens out again.

"Heya Bucky, Cap," he says flippantly, as he strolls in, hands in his pockets and grin on his face. Ah, he is untouchable, immoveable, his feathers will never be ruffled.

"Hey Tony, nice to see you down here in the gym. Without someone dragging you here, for a change."

Tony sticks his tongue out at Steve, and Bucky pauses his workout to grin up at them. "Heya, Tin Can."

"Hi there, RoboCop" Tony grins back. He feels like he should be saying something, but can't quite remember what it is.

Steve rolls his eyes. "That's enough of a break, keep going, Buck." Bucky rolls his eyes and goes back to doing pushups.

Steve winks at Tony. "We're working on his endurance today."

"Oh, sounds like fun." Tony is too busy trying not to stare at the lines of Bucky's back to realize that Steve's smile has turned mischievous.

"Say Tony, why don't you help me give Bucky a bit of a challenge?"

"Hmm, what?" Tony looks back at Steve and oh, he does _not_ like that glint in his eye. He has the sudden urge to back out of the room. "Actually Cap, I just wanted to ask-"

"I'm sure it can wait a few minutes, Tony, now get over here." Before he can run, Tony's being bodily dragged over to where Bucky is holding a plank pose. _Don't stare don't stare don't stare_. Bucky relaxes as they approach. "What's up, guys?" he asks. His eyes narrow as he looks at Steve. "Steve? What are you-"

"Just helping you out, Buck, like I promised," Steve says, and Bucky's eyes narrow at the overly innocent tone. "Hold that plank again."

Bucky shoots him one more suspicious look but complies. Steve manoeuvres a very confused Tony into position. "Now Tony, you just sit right here."

Steve pushes him down gently and then for ten whole glorious seconds Tony is sitting on Bucky's back. He's sitting on Bucky! This is the most contact they've had since that night that Bucky doesn't remember (which might be because Tony has been avoiding him, and why has he been doing that again? Oh right, _feelings_ ) but oh, he's sitting on someone's _back_ , maybe he should-

And then his precarious seat wobbles and _drops_ , and Tony lets out a shriek as Bucky somehow loses his balance and falls, flat onto his stomach, letting out a groan. Tony takes a minute to comprehend what just happened and then shoots up like a rocket.

"I- sorry, I'm so sorry I just, talk? And tell you, dinner, and a movie, maybe? If you like that? And ice cream and dates and oh, I just _sat_ on you and you _fell_ , I just- I'm _so_ sorry." And then he bolts.

He hears Steve's voice say something like "Wait, Tony!" but he's too far gone to care.

Damn. Damn damnity beaver dam. He should've known he'd mess up something as simple as this. What kind of messed up person couldn't even ask a friend to dinner. And a movie, maybe. If Bucky had wanted to. Not that Tony would know. He hadn't asked. He hadn't even mentioned the date, let alone his feelings, and he'd still messed it up somehow. Maybe if Steve - but no, Steve was just. What _had_ Steve been doing? Oh, Steve was probably trying to _help_ , Tony realized with a groan. He'd probably noticed Tony stumbling over his own feet in every room Bucky was in and had decided to intervene. Figures, even Captain America didn't think Tony could do this.

What is this anyway? Why is this such a big deal? People tell people how they feel about each other every damn day in so many different ways. It should be as easy as breathing. And yet every time Tony tries, it feels like he's suffocating, and maybe that's his problem. Maybe there's something wrong with him, since he can't even stay sane long enough to tell someone he l- no. He can't say that. He can't say it to him, he doesn't even deserve to say it to himself. Does he deserve it at all? It's not like he had much to offer. Snark that bordered on offensive, intelligence that offended everyone else's, sleepless nights and a weak heart.

He looks down at his chest, the glow of his ARC reactor through the AC/DC shirt. No one had ever complained, probably due to his boatloads of money, but he knew a lot of his, ahem, _partners_ , didn't like the reactor. Pepper didn't either, and he couldn't blame her. Under the shirt, scars radiated out from it like a grotesque cobweb, remnants of Afghanistan, and the palladium poisoning that came after. Look at him, his cut-up chest with a plug-in battery. And there wasn't much else to attract, was there? His legs were lean and shorter than he'd like, barely hidden by the lifts in his shoes. His short hair, because he hated it falling into his eyes when he was working, wasn't anything to write home about. He poked his stomach thoughtfully. He had made Bucky fall just by sitting on his back, and he'd seen the soldier do one armed pushups with barbells on his shoulder blades without breaking a sweat. Maybe he needed to cut down on the carbs-

He yelped as he was grabbed and pulled up, into the ceiling.

"Please don't eat me!" It was a reflex more than anything, since he was thinking about food.

Clint let go of his arms and stared back at him, confused. "Why would I want to eat you?"

"I don't know, why would you want to kidnap me and stash me in my vents?"

"What, kidnap?! I- oh wait, right." A second later, Clint's all up in his face and Tony almost screams, but the serious look on Clint's face shocks the terror right out of him.

"Whatever you were thinking just then, stop thinking it." Tony is confused, but Clint keeps talking. "I'd tell you to erase it from your mind, but I know that's not something I can ask, so I will say this - none of that is true. You are not ugly, or short, or fat, or whatever it is you were thinking. You're not unattractive. You're beautiful."

Tony is too stunned to reply. Clint grabs his shoulders and just keeps going. "You do deserve good things. You deserve what you want. And just because you've failed a few times doesn't mean you give up. You're Tony Stark! You're Iron Man, you run, well, _ran_ , SI and churn out technological marvels on a daily basis, you've got the best sense of humour on the entire team besides me, and you've got the most beautiful heart of all of us."

Tony jolts out of his stupor. "What is happening? Is this a come on? Clint, what-"

"No, Stark." Clint leans closer, hands tightening on Tony's shoulders, and the archer is so rarely serious outside of a mission that his intensity strikes Tony dumb again. "I'm into guys. But I'm not into you. At all. But you need to hear this. You are worthy of love. Your heart is strong, and pure, and beautiful. Not the reactor," Clint says as Tony's eyes flicker down to the blue glow. "The reactor's real pretty, but your heart. Your heart is what makes you beautiful. You make time for us, space and weapons and security and so many things for us, when we don't even ask for it. And you don't ask for anything in return. You gave us a home. And you made us a family. You're the glue that sticks us together. And you deserve everything."

Tony's still a bit confused. He's about 88% sure Clint isn't flirting with him. 

Clint's face comes close enough that their noses are touching. "If you tell him and it goes badly, you'll regret it for a second, move on. But if you never tell him," there's a flash of grief, stark and painful on Clint's face that makes Tony wonder _why_ Clint is so serious about this, but it vanishes almost instantly. Damn assassins. Clint looks him straight in the eye, "If you never tell him, you'll regret it forever."

Then he drops Tony back out of the vent and closes the panel, leaving Tony in the hallway with his clothes covered in dust and his mind full of troublesome thoughts.

\----

  
It's been 48 hours since Clint's _talk_ and Tony doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't even know if the _talk_ really happened. Maybe it was a fever dream. He'd certainly been out of it, after sitting on- nope. Not going there.

He drags himself to the common room. Maybe coffee will help him make better sense of things. He definitely needs it if he's hallucinating _Clint_ being _serious_ , of all things.

Bruce is drinking tea at the counter, and nods amicably when Tony walks in. Tony sticks his tongue out like the mature adult he is and ignores the eyeroll he gets in return, making a beeline for the coffee machine. He pushes the button and grabs his favourite mug from the cupboard.

"Cool mug, Tony," he hears Sam say. He turns and smiles at the newcomer.

"Thanks. Pepper gave it to me." It's an Iron Man helmet, but the face plate is open and there's no head inside, just a strawberry. When she'd given it to him, a few months after they got together, he'd thought she was mocking him, the one thing he knew about her, the one thing in his head. After the breakup, he thought it was just Pepper's petty sense of humour, a combination of two things she hated that he loved. But now, he thinks Pepper got it as a symbol of his head always being full of what was important, even if he didn't know why. Tony sighs. He loves Pepper, but her metaphors could really use some work.

Steve and Bucky walk in and Tony clutches his mug tighter. Damn it! He's been avoiding them so well the past couple of days.

"Hey, Tony." Steve says, practically drilling holes into his head with his pointed look. "Didn't you say you wanted to talk to Bucky about something?"

It takes all of Tony's strength to not tremble as he grabs the coffee pot and fills his mug. "Nah Cap, maybe you're confusing me for someone else." He takes a sip of coffee and forces a grin, the taste settling his nerves. "Don't tell me you're losing it in your old age."

His blue eyes radiate frustration and Tony's confused. He's literally done nothing.

'I've literally done nothing!' he whisper-shouts at Cap, while Bucky's rummaging through the drawers.

'That's the problem!' Steve whisper-shouts back, and Tony is more confused than ever. Bruce and Sam are looking between the three of them like they're a puzzle that needs solving.

There's silence as Bucky straightens up with a knife gripped in his fist. His metal fist. He grumbles a bit before he opens the fridge and bends to rummage through it. He hasn't looked at Tony once.

Tony turns away, trying not to appear hurt. Because he wasn't. He's been avoiding Bucky, and it's been going well. This is what he wanted, right?

"So," Bruce says. "Steve. You and Bucky finally figure things out?"

Steve looks confused. "What things? We're fine."

"Oh good, that's nice to hear. Congratulations. I thought you'd take forever to finally ask him out."

What.

Steve starts coughing and doesn't stop. Tony, by some miracle, manages to hold on to a thread of his sanity. He turns slowly towards Bruce. "What the _hell_?"

"Oh, I just thought. Oh. Never mind." He looks sheepish.

Sam looks confused. "Wait, so it's not - oh! Then is it Steve and Tony then?"

Tony gapes at Sam, unable to form words with his mouth. Steve's coughing fit increases in pitch and frequency. There's a bang from the fridge as Bucky hits his head on something and curses loudly. 

"And that's my cue to leave." Bruce flees the room, looking a bit green around the gills. Bucky emerges from the depths of the fridge with a cucumber, scowling. 

Sam raises an eyebrow at him, looks thoughtfully at Steve coughing his lungs out, at Bucky, cucumber in one hand and knife in the other, and back to Tony, wide eyed and clutching his coffee mug in a white-knuckled grip. "Oh! So it's all three-"

"SAM." Tony screeches, horrified. Honestly, get a _grip_ , Steve, and put an end to this madness. Bucky stares at them. "What's going on?"

Sam ignores both of them. "Not that either? Well then it must be-"

Steve has pulled himself together by this point and lunges toward Sam. Bucky and Tony stare as Steve slaps his hand over Sam's mouth and bodily drags him out of the kitchen by his ear. "Sorry about that, fellas. We'll just go."

Bucky stares after them for a long moment. "What was that all about?" Tony shrugs. Bucky stares at him for a second before seeming to snap out of a trance. He turns back to the counter. His metal arm gleams in the light and Tony's eyes track its movement. "Hey Bucky-"

"Ow!" Tony jumps as Bucky yells and nearly empties his coffee all over himself. "Shit! Sorry, um, yeah. What were you saying, Tony?"

"I was just saying we should maybe go get-" Bucky has turned toward him. His metal hand is still holding a knife and his flesh hand is covered in - "Blood!"

Bucky jumps this time and immediately goes into a defensive stance. "What? Where? What's happening?"

Tony stares, then refrains from rolling his eyes, but it's a close thing. "On you, dumbass." He steels up his courage and walks up to the man, who tenses as Tony reaches out for his flesh hand. "Give it."

"What? I- oh." Bucky stares at his hand, stained red. "It doesn't hurt that much, I'll take care of it later. What were you-"

"Nope. Give it, _now_."

\----

"Why were you cutting a cucumber with your metal hand anyway?" Tony babbles as he holds Bucky's hand under the water in the kitchen sink. He is _holding_ Bucky's hand. Thor give him strength. "If you hold the knife in your right hand you'd only nick the metal hand. Which is, you know, unnickable." He says distractedly as he pulls the first aid kit out of the cupboard and gets a cotton swab wet. Ugh, he hates doing this. He cleans the wound, a shallow straight line across Bucky's palm, and carefully holds it closed.

Bucky winces and looks embarassed. "It's stupid."

Tony accidentally looks into grey eyes and forgets where he is for a second. "You know, a knife is a third class lever."

Bucky, if possible, looks even more embarassed. "Yeah, I-I know. I thought the metal arm could give more force to the, uh, the effort arm? And cut faster, or smoother maybe. I was, um. Comparing what happened. With each hand. How easier it was to cut with one than the other, you know?"

Tony just stares, and now Bucky's the one nervously rambling. "Well, I guess smooth depends on how sharp the knife is, but I was. Uh. I've beem reading a, um, Physics textbook? Just for fun," he adds hastily, as if he needs to defend himself to Tony, who's looking at him like he's a dream come to life. "And it was just a silly experiment, nothing serious. I've always been good at math, and I thought, well, maybe if I started small, I could actually learn something, get better, try to keep up to you when you talk at me in the 'shop, ya know? Maybe even contribute to conversation. Hah." His eyes dart nervously to Tony and away again as the shorter man keeps staring at him. "Well, anyway. I just wanted to try. I like what you do. Want to know how it all works. All the things you make. The armour, the tech. Thought one day, you might even teach me 'bout this little gizmo." He tries to joke, as he brings his metal hand up to Tony's chest and rests it on the reactor. Tony looks down like he can't believe what he's seeing. Like he can't believe what he's hearing.

Bucky looks panicked for a second. "I- I didn't mean to overstep, I-it was just a joke. I'm not trying to, to steal SI secrets or, oh God, Tony you don't think that, do you? It's just a hobby, I _swear_. I-"

He starts to pull his hand away, but Tony's other hand (the one not already holding Bucky's flesh hand) comes up to catch him by the wrist. Bucky looks up at him, and their eyes meet, and Tony knows his eyes are full of awe and wonder and- and everything else he can't form into words. He knows Bucky can see it all. He can't look away.

"You wanted to do that for- for me?" Tony says and it's like he can't even fathom the possibility.

"Yes." Bucky sounds nervous, but doesn't hesitate to answer. Tony's heart picks up pace. He leans forward, almost unconsciously, and Bucky's eyes go wide for a second, and then flood with nervousness. 

"Tony? You okay?"

Tony is lost. It seems like such a little thing, someone studying _high school physics_ to try and keep up with a washed up eccentric old engineer with a couple doctorates under his belt who rants at him across a workshop. But no one has ever done anything like this for him, ever. Everyone Tony has known has asked Tony to change, to meet them at their level. And here's Bucky, trying to learn something new and complicated so he can meet Tony at his pace. He's never asked Tony to slow down. Everyone wants a piece of the genius, but no one has ever been so kinda as to give him a piece of themselves. Until now. Until Bucky.

Bucky. Who is leaning closer in concern, and his eyes and nose and lips, oh god his _lips_ are right _there_ and Tony panics again, realizing he needs to say something, _anything_. He thinks _'I love you'_ and _'You're amazing'_ and what comes out is,

"I love you're."

Bucky's brow furrows. "You love my what?"

Tony manages, with great difficulty, not to flee the scene, mainly because he can see Steve watching them like a hawk through the kitchen doorway. "You."

"My...you?"

Tony ignores Steve facepalming and focuses on Bucky. This is important. "Yes, you. You, me?"

"Wait, you, me, you too?"

"Me, too?"

"Yes, me too! You?"

"Is that a yes?"

"A yes to what?"

"What?"

"What?"

Tony screams in frustration and grabs Bucky's face in his hands, pulling him close enough that their noses are touching and snarling, "I'm in love with you, you idiot!"

There is a moment of silence.

"Oh." Bucky says.

"Yeah." Tony feels his heart drop right to his stomach. He should've known it was too good to be true. He closes his eyes and begins to pull away.

But this time, it's Bucky's hands that grab his wrists and don't let go.

"Well, you could've just said that to begin with, Tony."

"I know." He nearly sobs, because he didn't think it would be so overwhelming to say it out loud, even if he hasn't heard it back. Probably won't ever hear it back. "I'm sorry. I tried, believe me. I've _been_ trying."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah exactly, that was my reaction exactly, everytime one of my carefully constructed plans failed."

"Carefully constructed plans?! Tony, wha-"

"And I almost gave up but then Natasha said - well, never mind what she said,"

" _Natasha_?"

"And then I saw you and Steve and it almost worked that time, but I messed it up again, go figure, it's almost like I can't give up on giving up, but then Clint caught me and dragged me up into a vent,"

"He _what_ -"

"And told me -well never mind what he told me, the point is, I-"

"I Iove you!"

Tony's mouth is still open as he stands there gobsmacked. Bucky is smiling at him like he can't believe what he's seeing. He lets go of Tony's wrist to nervously run his metal fingers through his hair. "I thought - I thought you knew. After the workshop? You, um, weren't there when I woke up. And I thought you knew. And that's why you were acting so awkward around me." He looks sad, and Tony wants to cup his face in his hands and kiss all that sadness away. But he doesn't, and Bucky keeps talking, flesh hand tracing tiny circles on Tony's wrist. "And then you talked to me in the gym, a little, and I thought maybe, maybe you didn't care. Maybe you were okay with it. And it was fine that you didn't like me back, as long as we could be friends. But I saw the way you look at me sometimes." Tony's breath hitches, but Bucky squeezes his wrist soothingly. "You looked at me like I was everything you wanted, and everything you could never have. And then I thought, hey, this dumbass might like me back, but if I spill all my feelings out on him, hell run for the hills. So I decided I should try and talk to you. Well, Steve and me decided. I might've asked him for help." Bucky looks sheepish. "I wanted to woo you. Ask you on a date. Buy you flowers, or candy maybe. Treat you right." He takes a deep breath, and then takes both of Tony's hands in his. "Because I want that. To take you out, tell the whole world you're mine. I want to talk to you, about nothing, about everything. I want to hold you and laugh with you and cry with you and, and everything else. I want everything."

Tony doesn't realize he's crying until Bucky lets go of his hands to gently wipe his cheeks. "I want everything with you, Tony."

"So do I," Tony whispers, and it's like an epiphany. He can't _breathe_ around this man, his heart goes haywire, his temperature shoots up to dizzying heights, his knees wobble and his palms sweat and his brain blanks out and he can't get enough of it.

Maybe one day, they'll be comfortable around each other, grown used to the intimacy, sharing looks and smiles and words and touches like it's second nature. But in this moment, Tony opens his eyes, and Bucky's gaze is awed and tender, focused on him like he's the only thing worth seeing, and it takes his breath away. They both lean in, for real this time, and Tony grins. He'd been right, after all.

_Worth it._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey again! I'm so glad you made it all the way to the end! 
> 
> I'll be honest, this was supposed to be a 5+1 ironwinter where Tony tried to woo and oblivious Bucky and miserably fails, and ends up jumping Bucky with a science boner when Bucky says something insanely intellectual. But I'm a Physics noob, and I made Bucky a noob too, a bit. Hope that didn't throw you guys off. And I started writing Nat and Clint and THIS happened.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Kudos, feedback and comments are hella appreciated! Or even just a "hey, how are you?" I'd love to know you stopped by!
> 
> Have a lovely day, and stay safe, please! <3


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